


The Other Arithmetic

by akaVertigo



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician), better than i know myself video
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Better Than I Know Myself, Dark Adam, M/M, Werefoxes, not-so-evil twin, orange Adam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-23
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-31 15:22:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/345643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaVertigo/pseuds/akaVertigo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wolf made that odd, happy grumble again and nudged Kris' would-be corpse with paws and muzzle, turning him over on his back. Belly on display, Kris had the stomach-burning thrill of learning what it felt like to have a giant carnivore nuzzle his throat, his stomach, his thighs, his—<i><b>whoa</b></i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Other Arithmetic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jerakeen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerakeen/gifts).



> Written due to [Jerakeen](<a%20href=)'s [Embrace Your Inner Wolf](http://jerakeen.livejournal.com/246018.html) BTIKM video analysis and in the spirit of the [Naughty Fox kink meme](http://kradamadness.dreamwidth.org/88878.html) at [Kradamadness](http://kradamadness.dreamwidth.org/). The story banner courtesy of the human genie lamp that is [katekat1010](http://katekat1010.livejournal.com/). ~~_Doubt not her Powers._~~
> 
> Unbeta'ed, all boils included.
> 
>  **ETA:** Edited 5/6/12. Fixed the typos and assorted grammar tics.

  


**@@@@@@**

Kris was very confused.

The life of an urban werefox was not an easy one. There were schedules to juggle, moon phases clashing with precious studio time, and diet budgets, and apartment fines regarding claw marks for the nonexistent cat you were constantly trying to prove you had. Neighbors were always forgetting to properly sort and bag their trash which lead to outrage on behalf of the environment and guilty mornings of scrubbing someone's expired gravy off your neck. Kris had despaired to the point of actually using the word despair, and he had nearly considered muzzling himself, and he had whines, and he had generally seriously considered giving up on ever having anything that resembled an actual life as opposed to a National Geographic Urban environment special until he was rushing out the door the morning after full moon, guitar over his back and a bagel between his teeth and realized: _hey, I'm doing it._

Which was why it was going to suck so very, very much to get eaten.

Kris felt a brief, sharp pang at the thought of his condo deposit, and then the wolf pressed his paw a little harder on Kris' back and all rational thought fled. His fox brain took over, freezing every muscle and locking his lungs. He was going to die. He was going to _die_. _He_ was going to—

The wolf licked his ear.

Kris' whimpered instinctively. The wolf rumbled, pleased(?!?), and licked the ear again before giving due consideration to the second half of the pair. It paused between licks to rub its muzzle in Kris' ruff.

Kris didn't have a lot of experience being savagely consumed but he was fairly sure this wasn't the standard procedure.

The wolf made that odd, happy grumble again and nudged Kris' would-be corpse with paws and muzzle, turning him over on his back. Belly on display, Kris had the stomach-burning thrill of learning what it felt like to have a giant carnivore nuzzle his throat, his stomach, his thighs, his— _ **whoa**_.

Kris scrambled backward, body hopelessly awkward in its getawayget _away_ writhe. One hind leg caught the wolf's muzzle. The great head jerked aside, wincing; Kris seized the opportunity and rolled onto his feet. Eyes like hot honey pinned him. He felt tension coil a moment before the teeth lunged at his tail, but this time a moment was enough. Kris sprung away with every ounce of energy in his paws and every shred of luck owed to small furry creatures living in big cities.

He ran three blocks before he realized he'd lost the beast.

The eyes, however, stayed with him all the way to Adam's apartment.

  
**@@@@@@**  


Technically Kris had never been over to Adam's place. He wondered if that was weird, but wasn't sure how to read the typical dating mile markers on LA time. People seemed to live in restaurants and bars here. He had, in fact, met Adam in a bar and it was impossible to get more LA conventional than that.

On the other hand, it had been only two in the afternoon and the bar hadn't been technically open. Kris had stopped by to discuss amp sockets; Adam had been delivering snowflakes.

(The snowflakes—origami wall scones, three dimensional and brilliant—had been Adam's special of the month. Next month it was scented pop-up books; Kris bought three.)

Stereotypes and Kris' earliest LA experience demanded cocktails and sex on the nearest flattest surface. Instead, they'd had red lentil soup and saw a Charlie Chaplin film. At the end, Adam had kissed his cheek and held open the cab door...and then closed it firmly behind Kris. Kris had watched him waving goodbye, the tall, friendly shape of him growing smaller and smaller in the window, and felt very lost. He had checked his phone four time on the ride home, feeling dorky and grateful every time he saw the programmed phone number.

Adam didn't kiss his mouth until the third date.

It took a month—a long, grueling, maddening, glorious, excruciating month—for them to reach Kris' bed, and another two weeks after that before Adam would stay long enough for breakfast. It was baffling, because Adam acted like he lo—liked being with Kris. He was touchy-feely not in some lame way, but in way that showed what he felt through touch. He was comfortable with holding hands on the bus. He cuddled like a champion. And he smelled—good. Like warm earth and clean towels and expensive tea and Fridays and the sort of vanilla-y soap Kris' great-grandma used to hand wash linens. Sometimes Kris just wanted to drop on all fours and tuck himself on top of Adam's stomach. Let everyone else nurse their fantasy of perfect were mates and alpha guardians; Kris couldn't think of anything better than Adam's human nose, and gentle palms, and oversized sweaters.

And if he did sometimes, only sometimes, wished for something a little wilder...well. Whatever. Kris could ignore it, as long as he had Adam.

Even if Adam was ridiculously weird about having anybody see his apartment.

  


**@@@@@@**  


"What are you doing here?" was the first thing Adam said, and Kris deflated a bit. Maybe he was more of an anybody than he had thought, after all. Maybe Adam hated visitors as a rule. Or maybe, oh man, maybe Adam didn't want _Kris_ over at his apartment because he didn't want to give Kris the wrong idea because he didn't want someone showing up on his doorstep like a bare footed crazy stalker in muddy jeans and a cheap t-shirt and—

"Baby, you're hyperventilating," Adam said. He put his soft, broad palms on Kris' cheeks; Kris' breathing immediately calmed. "Kris, honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not a crazy stalker," Kris said, face still in Adam's hands. "Please don't call the police."

"I would never," Adam said because he was the nicest person in the world, no contest. He lowered his hands (Kris missed the warmth immediately) and held open the door. His blue eyes were full of concern. "Come in. I've got the kettle on, Egyptian chamomile. Do you want a cup? I could make you a sandwich with it."

Kris felt horribly in love. "Extra mustard?"

Adam smiled. "Whatever you like."

  


**@@@@@@**  


Adam's apartment was small and immeasurably cozy. Kris had expected the books and the tidy kitchen, but the springy sofa was a happy surprise. He wanted to knead the cushions to ferret out Adam's scent. But. That would be a bit weird, probably. He settled for sitting primly with a mug of tea and a ham-and-hummus sandwich on organic whole wheat.

"Are you feeling a little better?" Adam asked, sitting down beside him. He was wearing a floppy sweater-thing the color of chestnuts and his hair smelled of soapy flowers.

Kris nodded and swallowed his healthy mouthful. "A lot better, thanks. I didn't mean to, you know, invade your space. I'll go in a little bit."

"You're not going anywhere until you have another sandwich and quit looking like someone came at you with a bloody chainsaw," Adam said. "And you're not invading anything, Kris. You're always welcome here."

"But you've never invited me," Kris said and immediately wanted to bite his tongue off. His human ears made a golden effort to flatten and failing that decided to ignite. He wondered if Adam would be too weirded by Kris crawling under his sofa and never showing his face again. If nothing else, it looked like Adam cleaned under there regularly.

Adam's face did a complicated wiggle: worry, indecision, guilt, resolution. "You're right, but I should have. It was just that, never mind." He glanced away for a moment, towards the wall, then shook his head and turned back to Kris. His mouth was firm. Kris wanted to bite it, a little, but Adam wasn't into that sort of thing. "You are welcome here, all right? Consider it an open 24-7 invitation. No expiration date."

Kris nodded, trying not to squirm happily in a manner that was too obvious. "Can I have a guest badge? I'll clip it to my tie and everything."

Adam grinned. "You'll probably need to buy a tie first."

"Can you make me one?" Kris asked.

"Oh, man, you know I totally used to do that. Well, once. My friend Cass, you'll love him, he has his own fashion line, right? So he and another friend were doing this exhibition show a few months back, and they ran out of men's accessories. I don't know why, I think one of the models was someone's ex and just threw the whole bag out of the window. Anyway, Cass called me over and the only material they had on hand were, like, shoelaces and these heavy duty binder clips..."

Adam's voice was nice, soothing like Adam's hands and Adam's smell. Kris slouched further down, settling on his side automatically, and let the warm tumble of Adam's words blanket him. The spot on his neck, under the now absent ruff, tingled slightly but he ignored it. He was with Adam. Everything was going to be all right.

  


**@@@@@@**  


Kris was fishing for pickles in Adam's fridge when something rammed into the door. The impact shook the whole apartment. "What the hell?"

"I got it," Adam said. He set down the bread bag with a resigned set to his shoulders. "Could you stay in the kitchen for now, baby? I'll be quick."

"Why?" Kris said. He didn't like the hard set to Adam's back. Well, okay, he _liked_ but it didn't look like Adam and that was troubling. "What's wrong? Adam, what's going on?"

"Neighbor issues," Adam said and went out of the kitchen. A moment later, Kris heard the door open.

"Where is he?"

Kris' hackles rose high; the guy sounded savage. Was he a robber or, worse, a psychotic ex? Adam didn't seem the sort to date crazy ax murderers but Adam was so nice he'd probably go on a date with a crazy ax murderer at least once if only not to hurt the murderer's feelings.

"Calm down." Adam. "You look like a crazy ax murderer right now. Or was that the look you were going for?"

"Oh, fuck you, buttercup. I don't care about making a fucking impression."

"Maybe you should," Adam snapped. Kind of. It was hard to tell with Adam. "Because I can tell you right now that you've just about made the worst mess possible of things. Do you have any self control? At all, ever? What the heck were you thinking, just jumping him like that—hey, no!" Kris heard scrambling, a heavy thump like boots kicking. "Get back! Get off of me!"

"Get out of my way!" More scrambling, now with huffing and a few grunts. "I knew it, I _knew_ you'd grab him. Fucking liar, all that bullshit about sharing and taking things slow. Screw you. Let me in!"

"No!" The grunting got enthusiastic. "You are not barging and ruining things, you—you bully. I'm not letting you scare him again."

"I'm not letting you steal him."

"I'm not trying to steal anyo—hey! No kicking, no kicking!"

"Fine, how about I just _bite_ your head off?"

Kris burst out of the kitchen with his teeth bared, nerves on red alert. " _Don't touch him._ "

The struggle ceased, both combatants frozen in the doorway in mid-wrestle. Adam's head was tucked into a sloppy headlock and Adam's mouth was a grimace and Adam's hand was shoved into Adam's face and nothing was making any sense at all.

There was Adam and _there_ was...Adam. Fighting with Adam.

Kris was very confused.

The new Adam was wearing a wicked black coat that only Adam could wear, if, that is, Adam was the sort to wear wicked black coats, which he _wasn't_ , and had something very much like a robin skull on a chain around his neck. He had tall black hair, like Adam. He had a pale face, like Adam. He smelled sweet and heady, like Adam...but spicier. Honey with a shot of tequila, liquid gold served straight up.

Gold, Kris thought. His heart rattled. Gold eyes.

"Kris," Adam, _his_ Adam, said pleadingly. "Baby, please don't freak out. We—I can explain."

"I wasn't going to hurt you," the other Adam said. No, not said: _growled_. "You didn't have to run away." He grinned suddenly, a heart-stopping dazzle of teeth. "You're a fast little fucker."

"Don't call him that," Adam said.

"Don't speak for him," Adam said and shoved Adam's shoulder. He had on rings, like Adam, the familiar Adam, but these were bigger and flashier. The Adam Kris knew wore rings because he like beautiful things and had beautiful hands; this Adam looked like he enjoyed having the option of slicing open someone's face.

"You're a were," Kris said. "A wolf. You're the wolf."

Adam, the Adam who was a goddamn werewolf, shrugged one shoulder. "Sup?" Then he stepped inside and very pointedly shut the door behind him.

"Kris, please," said Adam, who was Kris' Adam except not really, because Kris' Adam wouldn't lie to him, he wouldn't let someone who tried to eat Kris into his home. "Please, this isn't what it looks like." He paused. "Well, except for the part where there are two of us. Of me. Us."

"Twins?" Kris asked hopefully. Genetics he could handle.

"Doubles," they said at the same time. It would've been funny or cute if Kris' stomach wasn't knotted three times smaller and his hands shaking slightly.

"Baby," Adam said, begging.

Kris shook his head, too fast, backing away. Adam took a step closer to compensate, holding out his beautiful hands as if he'd scoop Kris up for a cuddle. God, could Kris go for a cuddle about now. Or a horse tranquilizer.

"Kris," Adam said. "Just give me a chance to explain. Okay, can you do that? Please, baby. Five minutes is all we need."

"All _you_ need," Adam snorted.

"Oh, God, could you give it a rest for--"

"What, five minutes?"

Kris' shifted closer to the kitchen door.

The wolf's head swung back sharply, eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it, pintsize."

Kris ran.

  


**@@@@@@**  


The space under the sofa was as astonishingly clean as Kris had suspected. His nose didn't itch in the least.

"Ok, I got the broom. Do you want to be the poker or the catcher?"

"What the--put that away! We're not poking him. What if you put his eye out?"

" _Fine_. In that case, I'll lift the sofa and you can grab his tail."

"We're not grabbing him either."

"What the hell do you want to do then, lure him out with a piece of bacon on a string?" The broom clattered to the ground. Kris flinched at the noise. "He sure as hell isn’t coming out on his own."

"I don't blame him, with the way you freaked him out. Just--calm down, okay? I'm going to try to talk to him again." Denim knees found the ground and then Adam's worried face appeared nearly pressed to the floor. "Kris, baby? Are you all right?"

Kris bared his teeth, ears flat against his skull.

"Fair enough. I understand you're feeling overwhelmed and that's okay. You have the right to feel that way."

"Quit trying to Dr. Phil him." A boot nudged Adam's face away none too gently. "Let me talk to him."

"Yeah, because that worked great last time." But Adam rose and the wolf dropped down in his place, falling hard on hands and knees. "Here, kitty, kitty."

Kris snapped at him; Adam grinned, all teeth.

"Either you come out or I'm coming in," he said. "I promise you that if it comes down to the second option, it’ll be on my terms.”

"Don't listen to him." Kris' head spun to face Adam, now on the other side of him. He was surrounded. "Baby, please come out. It's dusty under there, I'm worried about your allergies." Adam’s brow was creased and he smelled fretful; Kris’ resolution wavered.

Big mistake.

He felt the risk half a breath before a rough hand made a grab for his tail. Nerves lit, Kris cannonballed out from under the sofa into the open. He ran towards the--what? Exit, yes! Where? _Where_? Legs stepped into his frenzied field of vision, blocking the door; Kris shot between them, dodging grasping hands and circling backward. There was nowhere to hide. Safety, he needed-- _there_. A scent, hardwired into some part of his rattling brain, familiar and safe. Adam! Kris dived towards it blindly, paws kicking and heart shaking, picked up and cradled by the familiar scent and texture of sanctuary. He buried his face in Adam's chest.

Except that wasn't a plushy, cozy wool blend under his nose and the hands cupping his sides didn't smell of the coconut-vanilla hand cream; instead, there was leather and the tart ghost of pomegranate. Kris' body twisted in panic, every muscle convulsing frantically with the need to flee. _Out, out!_ A threat flashed near his vision and he snapped automatically, sinking his teeth in without any salient thought. The rational part of his brain groaned heavily at the bite, understanding the incoming consequences. He saw the other hand coming out of the corner of his eye and braced for the blow.

None came.

A warm palm touched the back of his head and ran down his neck, his back, returning to repeat the trip with numbing consistency. The stroking was warm and steady; the pressure was tremendously soothing. Kris breathed through his nose, his jaw locked and his teeth neatly embedded in the wolf's hand. Something touched his muzzle and he tightened his grip instinctively.

"Leave him alone, it's fine."

"But I think I can get him to let go, just let me--"

"I said it's fine."

"You're _bleeding_."

"Don't be a drama queen, it's a scratch. My manicure is more dangerous than his teeth." A thumb ran gently over the edge of Kris' ear. "It's instinct. He needs something to hold onto until the adrenaline subsides."

Adam hummed a worried note in the back of his throat. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, I think he’s just spooked and worked up.”

“I meant you, your hand.”

There was a pause. “You worry about the dumbest shit.” The hold on Kris’ shifted, rearranging to better support him. “He’s going to be hungry after this. Do you have any real food in the fridge?”

“I was going to make black bean and mango croquettes for dinner.”

“...Right. I’ve got a couple of steaks in the fridge. I’ll get them, here, help me--” Kris’ cradle of leather and muscle shifted, loosening. Fresh panic burst over him. He dug in automatically, claws slipping off the slick sleeve.

“I’ll get them, you two stay here.” Footsteps, a door opening. “The cups in the dishwasher are clean. If you decide you want tea.” The door clicked closed.

Silence.

“Mango croquettes. Un. Fucking. Believable.”

Kris couldn’t help agreeing, a little. His pulse was still uncomfortably loud in his ears, but the primal stress had receded to the point of allowing rational thought. Slowly, his chest quieted; his spine relaxed. He opened his mouth, releasing the wolf’s hand with a cleansing lick. The arm under his legs tensed slightly before lowering his gently down onto the floor.

The sounds of Kris’ claws on the hardwood was uncommonly sharp in the quiet of the room. The slap of bare feet wasn’t much better.

“I’m sorry,” Kris said. He stood up, uncertain and distressingly naked. The thought of actually looking into anyone's eyes felt impossible. A kick, on the other hand, would not be undeserved.

Instead the wolf-- _Adam_ shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around Kris. He tugged the lapels straight and ran his hands briskly, once, down Kris’ arms.

“You’re okay,” he said.

“Yes?” Kris said. The leather smelled like Adam and like wolf, and like something very expensive. “I--thanks.”

Adam shrugged. He was still touching Kris, hands loosely cupping his elbows. Kris couldn’t think of a polite way of stepping away. Besides it didn’t feel...awful.

“I’m sorry,” Kris said again. “I don’t, I’m usually better than that.”

“You were freaked out,” Adam said. “It happens.”

Kris shook his head. “I was an _animal_.”

“Yeah.” The hands dropped; Kris found himself oddly released. The wolf took a step back and crossed his arms. His sleeveless shirt was black and patterned like leathery scales. “Is that why you never told him? You must have wanted to.”

Something not entirely like embarrassment tickled Kris’ throat. “I wanted to be honest with him. I know he deserved to know.” _That_ earned him a snort. “It wouldn't be fair to, to do anything together otherwise.”

“He's not a fucking saint, you know. You don't owe him a confession,” the wolf said. “You don't owe him anything. What does he know, anyway? He's got his arts and crafts shit, and his goddamn tea, what the hell does he know about what we need?”

“He's human,” Kris said. “He's my--friend. What if this happened when it was just the two of us, if I freaked out and tried to claw him or something.” He shook his head again and sat down on the sofa. "I owe him better than that."

"I found you first," Adam said suddenly.

Kris blinked at him. "What?"

"I caught your scent, on the street. At the bus stop." He was still staring at the wall instead of Kris. "I hung around it until you showed up and then I followed you to the club. The one with the lousy sound system."

"When?" Kris mentally flipped through his calendar. "When was it?"

"When do you think?” Adam said. “I told him about it that very morning. He showed up at the club the next night with his damn paper lamps." The wolf's mouth twisted. "He stayed up the whole night making the fugly things."

The first time Kris had met Adam, he had been too intimidated to go over and introduce himself. Adam had made the first move. Adam had come up to him, smiling and friendly; Adam had all but dragged him to dinner; Adam had been welcoming and generous and so _certain_ , so sure that Kris had never felt the need to second-guess the pace.

 _Why him?_ Kris thought. _Why not..._ He looked at the wolf.

What would it have been like, to be approached by an Adam full of teeth instead of good humor? To be challenged instead of courted, to hunt instead of flirt? Kris couldn't imagine the night ending in dinner.

"You liked him," Adam said. "I saw the two of you walking out together. He was carrying your guitar case. You had a look on your face like--like you know what. Everybody likes him."

Kris stared at him helplessly. His fingers twitched under the cover of the too long sleeves. _You liked him._ Yes, he had. Kris had liked Adam from the moment he'd seen him and talking with him had only increased the feeling. He found a new reason to like Adam every time they met. He wouldn’t know where to start trying to feel any of that with a wolf.

Even if he did make Kris’ pulse twirl crazily and his breath catch and his mouth water--Kris looked down in his lap, completely lost.

“You could use me."

Kris’ head jerked up. "What?"

Adam shrugged, smooth as oil on glass. “When you need to blow off steam or are having a bad moon night, whatever. You can do it with me, no risk of mauling there.”

“I...I don't know if you're offering sex or some kind of fight club,” Kris said after an uncomfortably long moment of open staring.

“Don't overanalyze it," Adam said. "You need to vent and I'm available. It doesn't have--you don't have to think of it as anything important." He looked away, suddenly bored. "It's not cheating if you don't care. It's just biology.”

“I...” Kris swallowed thickly. “That's horrible.”

The wolf’s teeth flashed again. “Thanks.”

“That can't honestly be what you want,” Kris said.

“I honestly don't care,” Adam said.

Kris looked at him, at the tight bare arms and stiffly styled hair, the absolute lack of vulnerability in the familiar yet new face, the deliberate blankness, and said, “Could you sit down, please?”

“Why?” Adam said. Nonetheless, he slouched down on the other end of the sofa.

After a moment, Kris scooted closer. Adam watched him with the still focus on an animal, his expression not changing even when Kris pressed a hand against the wolf’s chest, not quite on the heart. The funky faux-reptile shirt was surprisingly thin.

“Don't,” Adam said.

“Why today?” Kris asked. “If you'd been following me around for this long without me noticing, why did you show yourself today? You didn't have to. If you don't care.” He looked up into the gold, gold eyes. “Why?”

The next moment, Kris’ back hit the sofa cushions while a whole lot of wolf was suddenly stretching out above him.

“I'm not him,” Adam snarled. “You'd better get that through your head right now, fox. So if you're hoping to get a fucking Valentine, you're looking in the wrong place. I don't do tea. I don't do sweaters. I don't want to be your fucking boyfriend.”

Kris pushed up and kissed him.

It's wasn't a simple kiss. It wasn't _nice_. The first time Kris had kissed Adam, his Adam, it had been brief and light. Kris’ mouth had only been a little bit open, just enough to catch a taste of Adam's exhalation, a puff of warmth. Their noses clashed and they'd laughed about it afterward, friendly and thrilled. The warmth of it had reached into the deepest part of Kris’ stomach. It had been--sweet.

There was nothing sweet about _this_ , the way Adam, gold-eyed, ferocious Adam, surged into the contact. His tongued the seam of Kris' lips like he was willing to bite his way in and, once allowed inside, he didn't hesitate to press his tongue to Kris'. The heat was amazing. At the core of Adam's human scent was the taste of milk; at the core of the wolf was blood.

Adam's, the wolf's, but, no, this was still Adam, hands knotted in Kris' hair, though there wasn't much there to hang on to. Blunt nails raked Kris' skull in unreadable patterns. Three pounds of belt buckle was digging into his stomach, and the wolf's, Adam's, knee drilled between Kris' legs, nudging up to press commandingly against his groin. It was uncomfortable. It was awesome. It was terrifying and it was terrific. There were words, too; Kris vaguely recognized the sound of his name somewhere amidst the pants.

"You were--didn't want to scare you, he said it would--smelled you everywhere in the club--the bus--on his fucking hands, his face--so good, Kris, so fucking good for me--anywhere, just the two of us--fuck you right under the moon, in the dirt, shift with me inside you--you in me--make him watch--lick you clean--we’ll do everything, him too, together--"

Kris keened and came in drawn out, blistering pulses like he was gushing blood. He panted harshly into crook of Adam's shoulder, the thick chain of his necklace pressing dully against Kris’ cheek. Adam pressed his face into Kris' hair and mouthed his ear.

There was a polite cough from the door.

"Fuck off," Adam drawled. His hands continued dragging slow, pleasant lines up and down Kris' side.

"It's been more than five minutes," Adam said. He didn't sound mad, just responsible. Kris tried to sit up to see his face, but the wolf pushed down with his hips, pinning Kris to the sofa. He kissed Kris powerfully, sweeping out protests with his tongue; his eyes stayed on the door. When Kris surfaced from the kiss, there were knuckles rubbing gently against his cheek. Adam was kneeling by the sofa, his blue eyes peaceful and kind.

"Hey, baby," he said softly. "How are you holding up?"

"I--" Kris said. His brain was goo, but he had to focus. He had to get this right. "I'm okay. This isn’t--it's not biology."

The body stretched out on top of him stiffened, but Adam nodded with a profound lack of surprise. "I know it's not. But he's a stubborn bastard, I'd never be able to convince him on my own." He leaned and rubbed their noses together. Kris smelled tea leaves and clean skin, a remedy for all bad afternoons. "Your argument was much more persuasive." He kissed Kris' temple, then flicked his tongue over the thin skin. "You'll have to replay it for me sometime. Let me pick up some pointers."

"Okay," Kris said and Adam leaned in that last inch further to kiss him.

Nice, yes, but nice wasn't boring. Nice was overwhelming. Nice was sweet pressure melting into liquid shivers. Nice was the rhythm of tongue against tongue, not pushing but coaxing. Nice was little painless nips on his chin.

He could feel Adam watching them with steady gold eyes the same way Kris could feel the wolf's heartbeat against his chest. When Kris dropped away from Adam's mouth with a happy sigh, Adam rose in a half push-up and slipped his kiss into place naturally as breathing onto Adam's mouth. Something inside Kris' stomach shivered pleasantly at the sight of the long white throat stretched to help meet the lush mouth, the flash of silver carding through black hair. Someone moaned.

Things got blurry after that. Adam mouthed Kris' neck and Adam nuzzled the shivery center of his stomach, and Adam slid heated, smooth hands over Kris' back, peeling back the coat, and Adam kneaded the long muscle of Kris' thighs. Adam nipped his neck and Adam kissed his eyelids. Adam's hands were on his hips, Adam's hands were in his hair. Adam sucked him long and hot, Adam licked him open completely. Kris came, and came, and came.

Afterward, they napped in Adam's cheery bedroom with the shades pulled down to mute the insistent sunshine. They cuddled, naked.

"The hell we are," Adam growled. He sounded more groggy than outraged. "Cuddling is for menopause."

Adam sighed, resigned, and reached across Kris to pinch Adam's hip. "Stuff it. In this bed, we cuddle and don't whine about it."

"That's why this bed sucks." Adam shifted closer to better stroke Kris' back. He raked his toenails up Adam’s shin. "Your sheets are pathetic. Did you weave them out of recycled coffee filters or some shit?"

"They're certified bamboo fibers guaranteeing a non-toxic sleeping environment," Adam said. "They're organic."

Adam nuzzled Kris' ear. "Mine are silk."

Kris shut his eyes and curled his toes in bliss. He _liked_ cuddling, because cuddling was _awesome_ , but silk could have possibilities. Obviously, they'd have to explore both options. Repeatedly. He wiggled, burrowing his damp nose into Adam's side until Adam giggled and scooped Kris onto his stomach, tapping the tip of his nose. Was Adam ticklish in the same spots as Adam? Kris looked over at Adam, weighing his options.

"Try it and die, fox," Adam growled. But he propped himself on one arm and pushed close to bury his nose in Kris' ruff, grunting satisfaction when Kris licked his chin. Adam smiled at them, and patted Adam’s hair with his free hand.

Kris wondered if it was too early to ask about the steaks.

  


**@@@@@@**  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction of the most non-serious sort. I make no claims on the celebrities or species referred to.  
> 


End file.
